Jigano gave Rex a small wave and a smile, though he kept most of his attention on the bout going on in front of them, and the fierce display of martial prowess from their local militia. "I'll bet on Loren," he offered gallantly. "A flowercrown, shall we say?" He could hardly bet against his own guildmember, even if Deimos was far more likely to win the bout.
And then he winced as Loren's attack missed - though surprisingly, Deimos's did, too. Loren was quick to recover and He cheered as his fellow Loreseeker got a hit in, however minor in comparison. A quick glance showed Deimos shaking it off far more easily, either because of greater sturdiness or simply a lighter blow, and Jigano drew in a sharp breath as the General literally shook it off - armor, weapons, and all, growing fur and muscles to match. He couldn't help but whistle in admiration of the new shape, raw power on display in a way that Loren was in no shape to match.
The crack was horribly audible in the sudden hush, and the Provost was already moving before Loren called his name, hopping the rope and waving to Deimos so as not to startle the big (gods most fortunate, he was fucking huge) bear by coming up in a blind spot. "I'll get him set to rights," he called reassuringly to both hybrids, hurrying to Loren's side.
Magic sang in the threads of gold that vibrated in his soul, eager and warm to put to rights that which was broken. He let it flow to his palms as he knelt beside the Launceleyn, touching his arm gently. "A good show, Loren. Now, exhale for me on three... two... one..." He pushed Healing magic into his friend even as he braced the shoulder and rolled the arm back into place with a pop more heard than felt, trying to mitigate the pain even as threads of gold danced through the dislocated shoulder, knitting torn and bruised flesh back together on their way to the other side. He shifted to follow, eyes half-closed as he focused on the song of his magic and what it told him of the injuries remaining. "And, one more time. Exhale on three... two... one..." Not a push this time but a pull as he drew the broken halves of Loren's collarbone back into alignment, magic continuing to sing through the honeybadger man to knit and pull broken pieces back into one solid, healthy whole.
And then he winced as Loren's attack missed - though surprisingly, Deimos's did, too. Loren was quick to recover and He cheered as his fellow Loreseeker got a hit in, however minor in comparison. A quick glance showed Deimos shaking it off far more easily, either because of greater sturdiness or simply a lighter blow, and Jigano drew in a sharp breath as the General literally shook it off - armor, weapons, and all, growing fur and muscles to match. He couldn't help but whistle in admiration of the new shape, raw power on display in a way that Loren was in no shape to match.
The crack was horribly audible in the sudden hush, and the Provost was already moving before Loren called his name, hopping the rope and waving to Deimos so as not to startle the big (gods most fortunate, he was fucking huge) bear by coming up in a blind spot. "I'll get him set to rights," he called reassuringly to both hybrids, hurrying to Loren's side.
Magic sang in the threads of gold that vibrated in his soul, eager and warm to put to rights that which was broken. He let it flow to his palms as he knelt beside the Launceleyn, touching his arm gently. "A good show, Loren. Now, exhale for me on three... two... one..." He pushed Healing magic into his friend even as he braced the shoulder and rolled the arm back into place with a pop more heard than felt, trying to mitigate the pain even as threads of gold danced through the dislocated shoulder, knitting torn and bruised flesh back together on their way to the other side. He shifted to follow, eyes half-closed as he focused on the song of his magic and what it told him of the injuries remaining. "And, one more time. Exhale on three... two... one..." Not a push this time but a pull as he drew the broken halves of Loren's collarbone back into alignment, magic continuing to sing through the honeybadger man to knit and pull broken pieces back into one solid, healthy whole.
